Visit From my Dad:

Can’t Help You Son, But Here’s A Sleeping Bag

 

      My Dad came by to visit me at my little camper. My Dad was back in town, he had bought some more condos in Florida with my Stepmother and evidently my Brother James told my Dad how and where I was living.

      Imagine my surprise when my Dad pulls up in his expensive Cadillac. I noticed the trailer hitch on his car and a Marina sticker. It occurred to me that James was correct and that my Dad had the money to afford a boat and a membership to a Marina.

      He and my Stepmother are looking at me. They are looking at my camper. They have a look of horror on their faces at my current living conditions.

They are trying their best to hide their horror.

They have failed.

I am eyeing my reflection on the Cadillac’s window.

I look thin.

I look tired.

I look like I weigh one hundred and fifty pounds.

I have been missing meals to pay off debts.

My Dad looks at me, “Hey Jitterbug, look at you. You got quite the beard. You look healthy as a stallion”.

He sounds insincere.

“Shit, I’m skinny, I’m starving, I’m living in a fucking six-by-ten camper without heat, water or a bathroom and he acts as if I’m living the Life of Riley.”

I try to sound upbeat, “How did you find me Dad?’

“Your Brother James told us where to find you.”

“Yeah, well, it has been a while since the last time we seen each other. Where have you been?”

My father is shifting from one foot to the other. My indirect accusation of his neglect is making him a little uncomfortable.

“Hell, not since you had to come home on leave for your grandfather’s funeral.”

He wants to rush away from where our conversation is heading.

“Well let’s not dwell on that. How you doing?”

I smile and think, “Other than the fact that I’m living a life of crushing poverty and I’m starving most of the time, just great.”

With a confidence I did not feel, “As you can see… great. I got a nice cozy little camper. I’m living this way so I can pay off my debts faster. A man’s got to always pay of his debts.”

“Isn’t that what you always use to say?”

He is uncomfortable, “Certainly, certainly, that’s what men do.”

He becomes a stumble of excuses, “I would have helped you Laz, but I have been suffering from a shortage of money since my work with the Merchant Marines has been spotty, you know with all of our manufacturing business leaving the country, it makes for a tough living.

I’m afraid this trend is going to get worse not better… you mark my words.”

“Your Stepmother and I have really had to tighten our belts.”

My eyes slide over to his Cadillac, the trailer hitch on the back and a Marina sticker.

He sees the direction my eyes have gone and he becomes a rush of conversation.

My dad quickly grabs my upper arm and steers me towards the camper I am living in.

“Hey Jitterbug, let’s see your place. I think it is neat that you live this way. Why... if I was your age, I find this to be an adventure.

He sounds insincere.

I am speechless. I am feeling humiliated that my dad sees how I’m living. I feel like a failure as a son; a failure as an adult; a failure as a man.

“I am one big fucking failure in life.”

I put on a false front of bravado, but inwardly I am certain my future is bleak.

       However, seeing that my Dad is doing better financially gives me hope. I am hoping that perhaps he will help me to get into the Merchant Marines, to finally make enough money to escape my shameful poverty.

“Why not? He had told me numerous times that the lowest deck hands make bank in the Merchant Marines. If he gets me hired then I can pay off my debts, save lots of money and prepare for the future.”

These fantasies gave me hope.

      Now we are sitting in my cramped quarters and my Dad is doing a better job of hiding the horror he felt earlier. He tries to make light of my situation.

“Man oh man, if I was your age this would be really cool.”

He sounds disingenuous.

“Hey, lets go get some lunch… on me.

He takes me to an upscale restaurant. He and Heloise are sitting across the table. They are both trying to hide their shame and loathing of my situation and of me. It doesn’t matter. I feel enough shame and self-loathing for ten people. I am ashamed because I do not have a shower. I am ashamed because I am dirty and I am sure that I stink.

I want my dad to save me from my poverty. I want to eat three square meals a day again… instead of the three square meals a week that has become my routine.

“Dad, I want you to use your connections to get me into the merchant marines.”

“Son, I don’t have any money to give you. I told you, it is getting tough all over since U.S. exports are dwindling. Work just has not been as lucrative.’

“I’m not asking you for money. I am just asking you for a foot in the door so I can get out of this fucking hole that I’m in on my own. I can’t seem to find any jobs in this area.”

      My dad raised his hands in protest, “I can’t help you. The Merchant Marines are not really hiring anyone in my company. Besides, it’s not a good idea to have my son on the same ship with me.”

      “Well let me work on a ship that you don’t command.” No one has to know that I’m your son.”

      My dad shrugs heavily, “That wouldn’t be right to use my position to get you hired in front of others.

      Tears of frustration threaten to spill forth, “Well fuck it then, I’ll look into getting hired on with the other Merchant companies on my own!”

      “I’m sorry, I cannot allow that.”

I am stunned by his aggressive rebuttal.

      “What do you mean?”

      “I will black-ball you with all of the companies. I will make sure that you will never work in this industry, ever.”

      I thought that I had not understood him completely, “Why would you do something like that?”

      My dad sounds suave and disingenuous, “I don’t want you to go into the merchant marines because it’s a job that is not conducive for marriage.”

“As if living in this fucking six by ten piece of shit reels hordes of potential wives you stupid fuck.”

“Dad, I don’t want to get married, and if I did, there is no way I will ever be able to afford a family unless I get ahead financially. I will never be able to do that unless I find a job.

My dad looks at me with insincere compassion.

I am frustrated. I am ashamed, I am starving and I am losing my grip on reality.

A hitch of tears spill forth and then I push it back.

      “Goddamn it dad! No one, not you, not anyone you know is going out of their way to teach me how to go about this.”

      “He looks chagrined, “Someday you will find that special someone and you don’t need to be working at a job that takes you away from your family for three months at a time.”

“I can’t fucking believe I am hearing this shit.”

      “You and Heloise are still together, and besides, I can make an agreement with you. We can agree that I work with the merchant marines until I’m thirty. In the meantime I can save all of my money and set myself up.

      My dad waves his hand as if brushing aside the plan of a silly child. “

Well Heloise is different than most women. Look at how my job messed up my first marriage. You mother couldn’t take all the time I had been away at sea; and your plan wouldn’t work son. I wouldn’t be able to save enough in ten years to be able to live the way I like to live.”

      “I don’t want to live as high on the hog as you. Just help me out.”

      My dad smiles and looks at me as if he was really sorry that he couldn’t help me, “I’m sorry, I can’t help you. A man’s got to find his own way in this world. My dad never helped me. Hey, it is getting colder these days, I can get you something for that.”

      He takes me to K-mart and buys me a thin, lightweight sleeping bag that is only suited for the hottest of summer nights. I notice the price tag said Special Sale Price - $9.95.

I am afraid that I am going to cry.

“Fucking son of a bitch; mother fucker is always bragging that he spends ten times that much just for a fucking blowjob.”

I feel like shit. I feel like I am a son without value or worth. I am worth one tenth of a blowjob.

I look at my dad and his insincere affection and I hate him.

Why doesn’t dad love us….

      Shortly afterwards, I had brought the bag with me when I stayed at a friends apartment for a few days so that I could do a reconnaissance of the area for better jobs. He had a few roommates, and there was always people trafficking in and out of their apartment. It was on this weekend that someone had stolen my new lightweight bag. It was a shame, because as insufficient as it was, it still would have been better than the thin blanket that I had ended up getting through the winter with.

      My Brother James and I shared painful humor over the lengths that my Dad and Stepfather seem to take to deny us any help or usable advice.

      We commiserated that our father was worse than our Stepfather in that Dad seemed to have two people living in his body. The one Vincenzo who like to brag about how much money he had and how he was living the big life, and that having lots of money and pussy was the only important items in the world. Then there seemed to be the other person, the one who sighed and lamented that he was getting nothing but the tough breaks, that he was barely scraping by.

      The only thing that both of these people in one body seemed to agree on was that ‘their” Dad had never helped them, never gave them a break, and they agreed that a man had to make it on his own in the world.

      James and I have often ask each other, why in the world does a man like our Dad ever bother to have children.